


The Village That Went Mad

by Alxmost



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Tales From The SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Family Dynamics, Fanfiction, Gen, I don't know how tags work help, It just is that depressing, Retelling, Sadness, Tales From The SMP, The Village That Went Mad, The story just gets sadder, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alxmost/pseuds/Alxmost
Summary: The story has long been lost to time. Bits and pieces of the story remain, scattered in inns' drunken tales and wise men's warnings, but its contents have been labelled as myth and cast aside in favor of lighter stories with happier endings. But you know that those happy stories with rose endings are not how the world works.So you seek out the old village. You step closer to the crumbled houses and listen to the water dripping down their stone faces, and let the village itself tell the story of how it went mad.or, a retelling of the first Tales From the SMP episode, "The Village That Went Mad"
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Everyone, Alexis | Quackity/Darryl Noveschosch, Cat & Robin (Tales From The SMP), Corpse Husband & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Helga/Jimmy (Tales From The SMP)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	1. Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is currently being reworked! :)

The story has long been lost to time. Bits and pieces of the story remain, scattered in inns' drunken tales and wise men's warnings, but its contents have been labelled as myth and cast aside in favor of lighter stories with happier endings. But you know that those happy stories with rose endings are not how the world works.

So you seek out the old village. You step closer to the crumbled houses and listen to the water dripping down their stone faces, and let the village itself tell the story of how it went mad.

There was a time when life was simpler, when the townsfolk of the village they laughingly dubbed "Not A Very Good Town" only had to worry shuttering their windows against the cold nights and salting food for the winters. The villagers labored together during the day, caring for their livestock and sowing the fields with seeds. Oftentimes a group of traders stopped by in the spring with strange goods from lands beyond the woods, though the village was more of a pit stop than a destination. The villagers usually could not afford much, and seldom bought anything. But one year Jack managed to buy some potatoes, and although he hid them away from the rest of the village, every autumn they ate potatoes with steak prepared by Miles.

During the evenings the villagers gathered together by the well, the heart of the village. When the traders were there, they would hear fantastical tales of aristocrats disappearing at masquerades and of some faraway war. When the traders were gone, the old man Cornelius, always wrapped in his green cloak, would tell legends of cities sinking under water and nations toppled by greed. But the villagers were never afraid of the stories, or of the conflict the traders described. Bob had built the houses in a ring encircling the well, like a wall sheltering the villagers, and everyone felt safe inside the wall.

One year the traders came by with a man who had blind brown eyes and whose catlike behaviors earned him the nickname "Catboy." The other traders left without him and he settled for weeks at the well before the villagers, laughing uproariously at one of his tales, called on Bob to build Cat a house.

In that time they celebrated a marriage too, of the happy young couple Jimmy and Helga, and tables groaned under the feast the people prepared. Everyone in the village ate platters of crispy roasted duck, buttery rosemary bread, soft cake that melted in their mouths. While the adults danced by the well in the glow of colored lanterns and stars, the child Robin stuffed himself with cake, reveling in the food and in his crisp new shirt. Five slices in, he felt a hand on his shoulder and froze. It was Cat, the strange ex-trader. The blind man took Robin's hand with one hand and clutched a cane with the other.

"Where are we going?" Robin asked, confused.

"Straight to hell, buddy." Cat's voice was a low, gravelly rasp, and Robin flinched.

But Cat only led Robin to the other side of the table, to a tray of cookies slathered with Helga's special jam. The two of them ate nearly the entire platter, only stopping when Helga came over and laughingly told them to save some for everyone else.

After the party, Cat and his faded blue overalls quickly became a large part of Robin's life. It became commonplace to see the two of them fooling around the woods, and the villagers wondered at how they had no fear of the dark trees. But the two also laid traps for animals and hunted for wild mushrooms, and their odd behaviors soon became normal. Jack's treasured potato farm flourished, Bob upgraded the well, the couple's honeymoon phase continued — the ring of prosperity and trust went unbroken, and the townsfolk were happy.

But then, a terrible year hit. A drought scorched the area and stole life from the village. The crops withered and died without water and even the evergreens in the woods that had protected the village lost their leaves. In the winter the winds howled and battered at the doors of the village, and one morning, the villagers woke and found the mayor missing.

The entire day the villagers checked the locks on their doors and sharpened their hatchets nervously while Cat and Robin wandered into the woods as they had so many times before. Cat had somehow fashioned a hat for Robin, from dry reeds, and they plucked the only living flowers in the forest to press and attach to Robin's hat.

"It will be okay," Cat told Robin, grasping the small boy's arm and giving him a reassuring smile.

That night, the villagers assembled a campfire on the outskirts of the village, beyond the ring. They sat grumbling with suspicious eyes as they burned wood and incense to ward off evil spirits. Robin couldn't help but notice the way their glares always landed on Cat and hear their whispered accusations. Catboy had only joined the village and now misfortune had arrived. Hadn't he and the mayor argued about something a week ago? He always said he was blind, but he didn't act like a blind man. Was he faking it? I always knew there was something off about him...

The echo of those words plagued Robin, even as his mother pushed her meager dinner across the table for him to eat. The burning scent of lavender and cedar crept into the house at night, driving away the usually crisp night air, and Robin could hear Jimmy and Helga arguing as he laid awake, brown eyes wide.

The winter passed agonizingly slowly, and clouds of smoke perpetually choked the sky. Half the village moved away rather than bear the winter and were swallowed up immediately by the fog, so when Robin's parents were buried in the cold ground, there were few people at the ceremony, fewer who gave Robin kind words, and none at all who offered Robin food to make it through the winter. Cat stood by the well hours later, arms still wrapped around Robin's small frame as the orphan shivered and cried in the cold, cold afternoon. Helga passed by once, knocking on doors before heading into Bob's house, but her special jam on cookies, her warm spirit, and her happy marriage had long been stolen by the fog and the winter.

"It will be okay," Cat repeated, even though he wasn't sure. He held Robin gently, and they grieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on Karl Jacobs' "The Village That Went Mad" episode from Tales From the SMP! It's basically roleplaying Town of Salem (aka Mafia), so the story will make more sense if you watch the VOD/video and look up the game Mafia. 
> 
> March 1st update: Updated first part of this chapter! More edits & hopefully more Tales From the SMP stories soon :)


	2. Cat

For a time, the wards worked. The winter drought ended and the villagers awoke to the soft pattering of rain tapping against the windows. The cold retreated. Jack miraculously nursed the few barely alive potatoes in his farm back to life. The villagers got back to their jobs with new vigor, sustained by hard bread, boiled potatoes, and hope. 

They elected Jimmy, his hands smoothing wrinkles from his suit and his eyes constantly darting to look at Helga and Bob, as the new mayor. The lanterns, so long unused, were strung up around the well again for the modest inauguration. The sounds of birds returning rang in the village, loud but in harmony with the quiet work of the villagers. Bob struck down the unoccupied houses, splinters piercing the thawing ground and dust swirling up into the air. The absences broke open the ring that made up the village, and the houses now sat in a half-moon around the well. The birds' calls were louder too with the disappearance of so many villagers, but still the townsfolk toiled on, determined to create normalcy. Miles and Jimmy went around the village, patching up blankets and clothes with donated scraps of fabric. Helga eyed Miles all the while, only shaking her head slightly when Robin asked if she needed anything. 

Eventually, Robin's steps slowed, bogged down by people ignoring his questions. He was the orphan, the drain on resources, the odd one out. Cat had accepted Cornelius' invitation to live together the day before, hand pressed against the wall and eyes open in shock ("we people have got to stick together. I can help you walk," Cornelius had said, dull green clothes blocking Cat's doorway). 

Robin wondered if Cat would have been just as willing to live with him, if only he had asked. Robin wondered why "we people" didn't apply to him. He watched Cornelius' cloak swish as he lifted some wood, watched as Jimmy offered him help and a tight smile, watched Bob observe both of them. Then, something brushed by his side uncertainly, jolting him out of his thoughts. A second later, a familiar pressure arrived on his shoulder. It was Cat, with a smile and a walking stick. 

"Where are we going?" 

"Straight to hell, buddy." Robin couldn't help but smile. It was Cat's favorite response.

They headed into the woods again. The leaves had begun to return, a fresh lush green like the new sprouts of grass, like everything was coming out of hibernation, Robin told Cat eagerly. They scoured the ground for mushrooms and berries like they always did, and Cat knelt down to look at a cluster of tiny flowers. He tucked a sprig, petals still wrapped tightly around each other, in Robin's hat. The pressed flowers from the winter were swept off. 

"It will be okay," Cat said, hope tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. 

The evening brought a velvety sky, a rich indigo cloak pinpricked with stars. Cat brought some baked potatoes for dinner ("Cornelius got some from Jack"), sprinkled with salt from a pouch he'd found in his old house. They rinsed the berries they'd found, too, the tart flavor bursting in their mouths. 

They talked until the village quieted and the last door closed. Robin waved at Cat until he saw him vanish through the doors of Cornelius' house. He shivered a little as he lay under his worn blankets, thinking of what it would've been like to share a house with Cat, and soon it became obvious that he wasn't the only one awake. A door slammed and Helga began talking, her voice carrying through the night air. 

"I have no place o' staying tonight. Who will let me sleep wi' them?" 

Robin kept his eyes closed, wishing he could close his ears too. Helga had ventured out the last couple of nights. Robin had caught a glimpse of her once when he and Cat had stayed up particularly late talking. Helga's hair had grayed early, and she'd always worn that lopsided smile. It had only been for a split second, but Helga was dressed in her underclothes, knocking on doors. Her marriage had been over for a long time.

A door slammed open and shut and Helga's voice came in and out of focus ("I'm gonna stay with you, I'm gonna—") and there were thumps and muffled yells. Robin lay in bed unable to sleep as the other villagers shifted in their beds as well, and no one rested that night. 

Cat didn't come find him in the morning. Robin found himself heading over to Cat's old house, hand hovering over the handle before remembering. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and he headed towards Cornelius' house instead, fingers brushing the rough stone of the well on the way. 

But the house was silent, and inside, Robin found blood smeared on the ground and a distinct green scrap of fabric. His stomach gave a lurch as he touched the cloth and he immediately pulled away, scared it would contaminate him, and his eyes darted away. His gaze landed on Cat, in the corner, curled up with his arms wrapped around his legs, shaking. 

Cat grasped Robin's arm and shook him. "Oh my god. Oh my god. They killed him in front of me." 

Robin screamed for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part to be posted in a couple of hours :)  
> I think potatoes are pretty good


	3. Corpse

No one in town listened to the cries of an orphan. When Robin's parents had first died, bodies cold and hard as the dirt that was shoveled onto them, the villagers quickly left, running from the site of death. Only Cat had stayed. Robin's hands had been numb, the wind whipping around him, tears freezing on his cheeks. He was at the village well, and everyone could hear him, but no one came. 

But the villagers now were hardened from the previous winter, given a dose of what it felt like to be truly afraid, so when Robin screamed, Jimmy was the first to burst in. 

The town mayor was dressed haphazardly, his blue tie askew, his shirt sleeves stained, his vest ruffled, as if he'd just run across the village. His gaze darted towards Robin and Cat curled in the corner first, then he blanched when his eyes landed on the green cloth on the ground. Everyone knew Cornelius always wore a bright green cloak, and that he cherished it even more than Jack cherished his potatoes. 

Even before Jimmy said anything, Robin felt a spoil of dread unraveling in his stomach. He watched as Jimmy looked wildly between them, the wall, the house, and the ground, at that one ripped piece of green fabric and the stain of blood. The villagers would come, and they would worry, and they would be suspicious. 

Who ever trusted the world of an orphan and an outsider? 

When Robin and Corpse stumbled out of the house an hour later, the smoke had already filled the air, filling everyone's lungs as their breathing hitched in fear only to cough. Robin's eyes watered and Cat struggled to breathe as they staggered towards the campfire, arms looped around each other. It scared Robin to hear Cat's coughs wrack his whole body. It scared him to see his best friend and the person he'd always relied on so weak. It wasn't supposed to be like this. 

The other villagers were at the campfire already, huddled around the fire and looking nervously into the dark wood at their backs. They were talking in low voices, and their eyes narrowed when Robin and Cat approached. Cat stood up taller as they neared the fire and Robin felt a pang of worry. Even now, Cat was trying to help Robin instead of helping himself. He tried to give Cat a seat on one of the logs, next to Miles, but Cat made him sit instead. They held hands for a second longer before Cat pulled away, feeling the logs to find his way to a new spot. 

"Helga," Cat said, his voice hoarse and difficult to hear as the others kept talking, "could you stay with me tonight? My partner was just murdered." 

Robin rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them by the fire. Even now, Cat still didn't want to live with him. Why Cornelius? Why Helga? He was only dimly aware that Bob's mouth was moving as he looked at Cat. Cat had been the only one there, so he seemed suspicious. Robin couldn't let anything happen to Cat. 

"Shut your mouth, shrimpy!" Helga was yelling at Bob. The villagers clamored over each other for a minute, their nerves on a wire, still afraid. 

"I was just going to say," Bob shouted over everyone, "I was awake all night, and I don't think... I don't think Catboy is blind."

There was a moment of silence. "Don't believe anything shrimpy says," Helga said dismissively, still glaring at Bob. "Small brain, small shrimp." 

For a second, Robin relaxed. Helga was defending Cat, even in her scanty clothes and fractured reputation. He thought briefly of the jam on cookies she'd made at her wedding, the sweet tartness making him pucker his mouth and steal more to eat under the table. Then, he inhaled again, and the sickeningly strong aroma of cedar and lavender flushed the memory away. 

"Now, listen to me," she continued, and Robin shivered suddenly. "There is one person who hasn't talked at all this entire time." She looked at all of them, watery brown eyes focused. They landed on Robin and didn't move. 

"Me?" Robin's hands shook. He'd failed to warm them up. Their eyes were all on him, accusing, and it was worse than if they'd immediately clapped him in chains. 

"An orphan child is always the most annoying thing in a village, and you haven't been annoying at all today," Helga warbled, her high voice distorted in Robin's mind. His heartbeat was so loud. 

"Calm down, wench, the boy did nothing," Cat snarled, but the villagers had begun speaking again. Robin shook, but looked at Cat. He was grateful to have met Cat those two years ago, was grateful to have Cat as a father figure. 

"Listen up, all of you," Jimmy said, eyeing all of them. "After the last mayor vanished, I stepped up to restore some order." He got off his log and stood in front of Cat, the pendant askew on his vest. "I think you got rid of our wise old man Cornelius because you knew he would figure you out." Robin's breath hitched and he choked on the smell again. His throat burned and he wiped away the tears before they spilled over his cheeks. 

"It makes sense," Miles spoke up from next to Robin. "They were in the same house." 

How had it all gone wrong so quickly? Robin should have known that Helga's word wouldn't be enough. She was the most well-known in the town, but she'd accused Robin. She was the mayor's wife, but that was a facade. Her word couldn't possibly mean as much as Jimmy's, or even Miles'. 

"You're all right. It could definitely be me," Cat murmured, looking down. Robin felt something in him fracture. He trusted Cat, and he knew that Cat wouldn't kill someone. But did he really know that? Did he even know what Cat had done before coming to the town? There was no way. There was no way. 

He didn't sleep at all that night, and neither did Bob. Robin listened to the sound of a distant pickaxe at work, the sound of a prison cell being built, the sound of coming death. 

In the early morning, he heard them come for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pain, but it only gets worse. No happy ending to this story
> 
> It's been way longer than "a couple hours"... but hey, here's the next chapter! I didn't feel like writing something for the beach party, but I really liked this episode so I want to rewrite this story better in the future :)


	4. Jester

Robin fully intended to die for Cat.

Early autumn two years ago, months after Jimmy and Helga's wedding, when fingers of pale gold sunlight reached through the canopy and touched the floor of the woods, Robin brought Cat to the river. He'd been wearing his white shirt, newly washed and almost gold in the dappled light. His parents had waved them goodbye with a smile and went to help Jack with his potatoes. 

"Where are we going, Robin?" Cat had asked, his voice the same low rasp. 

"Straight to hell, buddy," Robin had replied grinning, nudging Cat. 

The river was wide, and the racing waters snatched the blue cornflowers Robin threw in away. Robin remembered the light breeze ruffling his hair, the sight of Cat in his faded blue overalls on the grassy bank, the familiar scent of the woods. They'd found a toppled tree nearby, its gnarled roots struggling to keep itself anchored in the water, and Robin had stepped onto it without a second thought. 

The rest Robin didn't remember well. He remembered one foot suddenly touching air instead of wood, and the shock of cold, cold water, and choking when he opened his mouth to scream. He remembered walking home, white shirt sticking to his body and soaked in the water that would have swept him away. He remembered his sore wrist, the way Cat had refused to let go. 

He mostly remembered the way he'd shivered on the way home, the wet cloth latching onto his skin and the way the cool autumn breeze had turned into a biting cold one.

The sky was so much more gray now. The smoke still hovered over the village, smoke that feasted on the fear. Robin could feel his shirt sticking to him now, soaked in his sweat, as Jimmy pushed him towards the newly built prison. He was going to die. He was going to die. 

The others were there already, and they turned to watch Robin as he stumbled towards them. Like he was going to a trial where the outcome was already decided. Cat too turned towards the sound, eyes searching for Robin even though he couldn't see, and Robin headed straight for him. Cat's overalls were covered in dirt and soot from the campfire, but they were still that faded blue. 

Robin reached out to Cat, to hug him, to make sure he was real, to say his last goodbyes, and then Jimmy grabbed his arm. The mayor looked at him, eyes flat and dark, and pushed him towards the other villagers. The chain on his vest swung, gold and bright against the dark purple vest. He reached out and clasped one of Cat's shoulders. "Well? Give us your case, Catboy." 

Cat's face didn't change, but Robin saw his knuckles turn white as he clutched his cane harder. "Well, it — it could've been me, but it wasn't. It wasn't. I wouldn't kill Cornelius. I just heard violence in the night." 

"Yeah, he's blind. Maybe he just didn't see himself killing Cornelius," Jack snickered. At the same time, Helga said, "That violence that you heard was all me." 

Cat looked at the ground near Robin, still trying to see him. "It'll be okay, Robin," he repeated. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay." 

Robin took Cat's hands, pushing away Jimmy when the mayor tried to intervene. Cat let go of one hand and reached up towards Robin's head, accidentally prodding Robin's forehead before feeling the hat. The straw hat he'd made for Robin. 

"Cat," Robin said, taking Cat's hand back into his own, "you're like a father figure to me. After my dad died..." His voice faltered. How could he say this in such a short time? How could he possibly tell Cat, now, how much he meant to him? 

Jimmy managed to get between them again, shoving at Robin's shoulder, and pulled Cat farther away. Towards the iron bars that now shone from the side of the hill, towards the heavy door that nearly blended into the gray rock. The prison. 

"If I go," Cat said, voice nearly inaudible, "carry on my legacy." 

Jimmy was taking Cat to the prison. Jimmy was taking Cat to the prison. The thought finally registered in Robin's mind. No. This wasn't right. They couldn't think Cat was guilty. Didn't they all think Robin was the one? 

Robin surged towards Cat again, but there was something holding him back, something binding his arms behind him. 

"No, no," he cried, the sound weak. It was so cold, and this time the cold soaked into more than just his shirt. "No, Cat!" 

The villagers were pressed against the cell now, crowing at Cat, but the blind man's eyes were locked on where Robin was. "Robin, it'll be alright!" 

It was a lie. It was a lie, because then a gear shifted and the ground beneath Cat vanished and the man in the blue overalls was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for more pain?  
> Coming soon to a dank river valley near y-


	5. Madness

Robin wanted to laugh. He'd been wrong, wrong the same way he'd been so many times before.

No one in town listened to the cries of an orphan. He'd been wrong about Jimmy. The town mayor had only come because he was afraid of future death. He'd been wrong about Helga. She might smile in his direction, or defend Cat, but it was all for her own safety. The murderer in the villagers' minds was dead, gone, never to bother the village again. The mood was nearly festive with the jubilance of the others. It oppressed Robin, bringing him down to his knees in front of the jail.

It was the same as before, the villagers running quickly from the site of death. Robin huddled on the ground, his hands coming away from his face wet with tears, the salty taste of them creeping into his mouth and the drops splattering onto the ground. The soil devoured the water.

It wasn't cold. The sun had risen and parted the smoke. It wasn't windy. A soft gust ruffled Robin's hair and weaved through the woods, but it was nothing.

But Robin was still cold. He was the same boy who had crouched at the village well two years ago, wind lashing at him, tears coming and coming and coming, the cold seeping into his body and into his heart. Except this time, Cat wasn't here.

The laughs came now, low, hoarse, painful. Cat hadn't been the murderer. The real murderers would keep slaughtering the others, Robin knew, and the villagers would live in fear until an axe brought their short, miserable lives to an end. What was the point — what had been the point of accusing Cat, of never seeing him as an equal just because he hadn't been raised in the village?

Robin crawled towards the iron door, towards the iron bars that he'd seen Cat behind. It hadn't been right, seeing Cat in the harsh gray cell. Cat and his blue eyes and his blue overalls belonged in the woods with him, in spring, with the flowers blooming around and Robin asking, "Where are we going?"

"Straight to hell, buddy."

Robin knew the iron door was locked. He shoved against it anyway, and pounded the metal with his fist. The village? It was gone, and beyond saving. It lacked what the people needed: acceptance and understanding. That had all died with Cat.

The door suddenly creaked, and swung inwards silently when Robin pushed again. Perhaps the lock had broken, perhaps someone had let Robin in. Robin didn't care. The gray stone beneath this hands and legs was too smooth, too clean, with barely a trace of dirt. He laid on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest to fit in the cell, and stared at the rectangles of blue sky through the bars.

And Robin started to laugh again. They wracked his body with pain, as if he'd been beaten up, and his throat was parched. There was no god watching over them, as there had been in the stories his parents had always read. And if there ever had been, they were gone now. All that was left was a broken village that finally lived up to its name: Not a Very Good Town. Robin would die, and the others would die, and die, and die, and nothing would be left standing.

Straight to hell. Straight to hell. Straight to hell. He repeated the words in his head, heard Cat recite them over and over in his deep voice, listened to that melody until the sky grew black and full of stars. He could hear Helga's yells resume in the night. The cell was warm, as if Cat was there with him, and Robin let the thought lull him into sleep.

He awoke from people rapping on the bars.

"—why we shouldn't have orphans. All they do is cry and shit, cry and shit." Helga's nasally voice wrapped around Robin, pulling him back to the still-warm floor of the cell. His throat was throbbing, and Robin coughed from the itch and reeled from the pain.

The rap on the bars sounded again and Robin looked up to see Helga's face peering through. Her face was hard, and she spoke quickly. "Hey, pal. Listen. There's some murderer here, and if you don't say shit, you're gonna fucking die."

Robin blinked, and Helga's sudden change vanished like the sun piercing through the smoke. Had he been hallucinating? Then the villagers were all cramming around the cell, staring at him.

"Who do you think it was, orphan?" Miles demanded, the gold of his hat flashing.

The village was beyond saving, of course. Robin was beyond saving. But he'd been thinking all the while, and he slowly turned to face Jimmy. The town mayor.

He'd been the first to show up at the scene of crime, the first to accuse Cat, the one who had separated Robin from Cat. Through the sound of the villagers' arguing and the numbness, Robin felt a hard anger flicker before it was put out again. It was useless to place hope in a village that had gone mad.

Robin heard the cell door click as it locked. *You may now join Corpse in heaven*, he thought he heard. It made him smile. He was wasting away, hallucinating a conversation with a god or some outside force that wouldn't even matter. He envisioned Cat sitting next to him, brown hair windswept, blue eyes as soft as the worn blue overalls. He imagined himself asking, "Where are we going?"

*Corpse has always been Cat to me. And we are going straight to hell*.

Robin was bitterly, bitterly cold, although the warm stones surrounded him. The floor would fall beneath him, and it would be painful.

But it would also be like falling asleep. It would be an escape from the village, and that was all Robin had ever wanted. Robin smiled as he felt the floor tilt away beneath him. The villagers had lost, and he had won.

Robin burned. By dawn of the next day, the village was bathed in blood, red glowing as the sun rose. Bob stood with his axe, sleeves rolled as always, staring at the village well. Jack cradled his potatoes. The village had been long gone, they both knew, lost as soon as the hard winter hit. It was why they had taken action. In time, they both withered away as well, leaving behind nothing but crumbling stones and a fairytale.

Next to their names in his journal, Karl Jacobs wrote: murderers.  
Next to Robin's name, Karl hesitated, then wrote: jester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's now 2 AM and I would very much like to sleep. I hope I have brought all of you pain. One day I will revise to more effectively inflict pain upon my readers, but not today!


End file.
